


Ten Feet Tall

by DetectableNinja



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Banner-centric, Bruce Feels, Character Study, Feels, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Implied Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Mild Language, Multi, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Some Humor, Tony Being Tony, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectableNinja/pseuds/DetectableNinja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Instead of only Natasha being the one who performs the lullaby with Bruce, all the Avengers take turns doing it. Feels and friendship ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Feet Tall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrotech](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrotech/gifts).



> A Bruce-centered story told largely from the other Avengers' POVs. Lots of Bruce/friendship feels.

Bruce was staring at his friends—God, it felt so weird to call them friends—with an apologetic look on his face. And from their expressions, it didn't look like the apology was going to be accepted any time soon. Helen Cho was telling them about Project Mother Goose, a name Bruce found hilarious, but the rest of the Avengers...well, not so much.

"So what you're saying is, we gotta go toe-to-toe with the big green guy?" Clint asked. "Are you nuts? I mean, no offense Banner—er, _Bruce._ "  
  
Blood rushed to Bruce's cheeks and he looked at his feet. He knew this whole thing was a stupid idea, and Clint was right. It would be dangerous. But Helen found Clint's little outburst funny and chuckled, continued to explain the Project in a way that made it seem like something other than selfish. Which, Bruce knew, and his friends too, probably, it wasn't. "No," she said with a polite smile. "You wouldn't be fighting the Hulk. Quite the opposite. All it is is one of you reenacting a calmative ritual Dr. Banner and I have developed that'll help calm Hulk down, and bring Dr. Banner back. A lullaby, I guess you could call it."

Tony moved from his place leaning against the wall and walked over to Clint, patting him on the back and saying, "Well, I guess we got ourselves a volunteer. You can handle a little old green behemoth, right _Hawkeye?_ "

Bruce put his face in his hands, and through his fingers he could hear a muffled "In your dreams," from Clint, and some laughs from Steve, Natasha, and Thor.

"Guys," he said, removing his hands, a guilty smile on his face. "It's not like that."

"Yes, I was just about to get to that," Helen said, a wry, conspiratorial grin on her face. It seemed to Bruce that she could read his discomfort, and that it was probably for the best to make this as funny as possible. "Well, Tony, you're not _wrong._ Agent Barton _will_ perform the lullaby."

"There we go. Sorry, Barton," Tony said.

"Wait, _Mr. Stark,_ " Helen interrupted, addressing her old friend with a mocking formality, her grin almost breaking into full-on laughter. "You didn't let me finish! Dr. Banner and I expect certain problems if the lullaby is performed by only one person each time there's a...what do you call it? Code Green?" she said, looking to Bruce for help, cracking up at last.

Bruce rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends. "Yeah," he said. "You see, the, ah, the Other Guy—well, it was really Dr. Cho who's predicting this, you know—but Dr. Cho is pretty sure that the Other Guy is probably pretty adept at facial recognition and memory, and thus resisting if he recognizes any person that he knows will, erm, 'put him to sleep.' This might make something like Mother Goose-" Bruce laughed a bit to himself. Steve snickered a bit too, but, noticing the patently unamused looks from the other Avengers—especially Natasha, who Bruce thought was gritting her teeth a bit, unusual from the resident dad-joke teller who would normally love such a stupid joke—Bruce continued. "Um, anyway, it seems that right now the Other Guy seems to have pretty weakened cognitive skills. So, we're pretty sure that as long as we rotate—alphabetical order by last name, Helen and I were thinking?—he won't recognize any of you."

That seemed to be enough information as suddenly everyone started to react with reluctant sighs and grumbles.

"Are you sure that we'd be able to handle him? There's a reason why Code Green is our nuclear option," said Natasha, speaking in her usual clipped, tactical language.

Tony looked at her with feigned shock. "What is this?" he asked. "Could it be that _Natasha Romanov_ , Russian ass-kicker extraordinaire, is scared of a little old green, mutated baby? No offense, Bruce."

Bruce could only sigh. "Guys-." he said.

Natasha glared at Tony. "That's high talk coming from a man who has to hide in an iron mask when he fights."

Everyone laughed, even Bruce, albeit a bit more nervously than everyone else, it seemed to him. He tried again. "Guys-"

"Well played, Agent. Well played," congratulated Tony.

 _Third time's the charm?_ Bruce thought to himself, and said, a bit more declarative now, "Guys!"

Steve, who had been almost entirely silent thus far, nodded at Bruce, eyes focused, and asked, "What's up?"

"Look, I know that this all sounds dangerous, but controlling and smoothing the transition from…" Bruce trails off for a second as he gestures vaguely at the space to his right, opposite Helen. " _Him_ , to me, is a really smart move. You know how much damage he can do, that's why we use him. But that damage goes from being good to bad once it starts hurting the people that we don't want it to hurt. You all remember Budapest?"

"Which time?" asked Clint with a chuckle, looking at Natasha. Her grinding teeth seemed to slow.

"The time when we were all there!" Bruce answers, slightly exasperated. He took a breath. "Okay. Sorry. Anyway, you all know what I mean. Plus…" he said, unsure of whether to say what he wanted to add. "Plus, it would really help me out. The whole Code Green thing really, you know…" Bruce waved a hand at some invisible image in front of him.

Steve cocked his head a bit and, taking a deep breath, said, "Yeah, you're right. I think it's worth it. Dangerous otherwise, for a lot of people. But especially you."

Bruce sighed, a smile creeping across his face as the other Avengers started to nod in agreement. Even Tony couldn't seem to produce a smartass comment. Natasha stared at the floor, a slight grimace on her face, but nodded too.

"Of course!" Thor added, walking over to Bruce, who had been sitting in front of them like a teacher giving a lecture. "The Hulk doesn't dare pose a threat to us. Especially if we're fighting for you, Banner!" Thor lifted Bruce out of his seat and brought him into a bear-hug.

"Thank you, Thor," wheezed Bruce, his arms pinned down by Thor's but still smiling widely. "But you're not _fighting_ him."

"It's just a simple routine. A verbal initiation phrase, followed by a simple, gentle, skin-on-skin contact," Helen jumped in.

"Sounds erotic," Tony said, eyebrows raised.

As Thor finally released Bruce from the embrace, Bruce laughed, genuinely happy to hear Tony joke around, and said, "Grow up, Tony."

"Now," said Helen, turning on her iPad. "I've already developed the phrase and the touch that would work with what I've done with Dr. Banner. It'll only take five minutes or so to teach you all, and then, as the Hulk makes an appearance in the future, we'll go in alphabetical order by last name. Deal?"

The Avengers agreed.

God, was Bruce happy to call them friends.

 

***

 

It was Clint's turn first, and all he could think about was how unlucky he was that his name was _Barton_ and not _Stark_. And Clint had actually been kind of excited for this mission—a simple search-and-destroy kind of job, taking down a Hydra outpost in Brazil, just outside of Rio. _Cool!_ Clint had thought to himself when they were getting briefed about the mission. _Always wanted to go to Brazil. Maybe chill on the beach, take in the ocean, all that jazz._ But then as soon as they had to call in Code Green, Clint knew exactly what that would mean when this outpost was : no beaches, no oceans, just him and the Big Guy—the first test of Project Mother Goose with himself as the first guinea pig.

"Okay, Hawkeye," Steve's voice said, half-amused, over the comms. "Hydra Outpost Gamma is officially decommissioned, and Code Green is officially called off. You know what that means."

"Don't remind me. And _of course_ we'd be attacking a base codenamed _Gamma!_ "

"Good luck, Clint," Natasha seemed to blurt over the comm link, almost with...worry? _Gee,_ Clint thought to himself. _Why should anyone be worried? I'm only trying to subdue a giant, pissed-off mutant. No biggie_.

"Thanks, Nat."

Tony piped in, "Codenames, lovebirds. We're sticking to our codenames."

"Thanks, _Black Widow_. Is that better, _Iron Man?_ "

"Much," Tony said, amused. "Of course, I find it hilarious that SHIELD insists that they're codenames when they're clearly well-known. But, who am I, after-"

" _RAHHHHHHHHH!_ " growled a voice from Bruce's comm.

Steve came back on. "And with that, go calm Hulk down, Hawkeye. My locator seems to indicate that he's only about...ninety to one hundred yards north of you?"

Looking in that direction, Clint could easily see green limbs thrashing just beyond a nearby hill. "Yep," he said curtly. "I see him. All right, I'll go do it. Talk to you when it's over. And _please, Tony_ , don't make any comments during this? You either, Steve."

"Hey, Steve comes nowhere _close_ to my banter!"

"Sure, Tony," Clint said, and ran toward the sound of smashing until he was within thirty feet of the Hulk.

 _Just remember: WWND? What Would Natasha Do?_ Clint thought to himself. And then, apparently answering that question, he crouched down and began to creep forward until he was close enough to say—although it came out as more of a nervous shout—the initiation phrase for the lullaby: "Hey there, buddy. It's about time for a nap, don't you think?"

Realizing exactly how loud he just said the phrase, Clint's mind could suddenly only think, _Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit,_ and his arm slowly started to drift behind him, toward his quiver. But suddenly, the Hulk stopped, turned, and looked Clint right in the eyes with an expression more like confusion than anger.

Although his internal monologue now was a series of _Oh my Gods_ , Clint was able to carefully get closer to Hulk, looking into his almost pitch-black eyes, saying softly, "Yeah, I know you're tired after beating the shit out of Hydra, so it's okay to rest. That's right, it's okay." The Hulk's face seemed to relax a bit even more—almost like Natasha when he told that joke. "You already know I'm the expert on getting rest. Did I ever tell you about the time I fell asleep playing _Assassin's Creed_ and not even the pizza guy getting to my place woke me up?" Clint swore he could see a possible smile creeping into focus.

He offers his bare hand to Hulk. "I can tell you all about it. Just take my hand, and first we'll go get you a nap. What do you say?" Probably just as unsure as Clint was, the Hulk slowly sets down the twisted Humvee he was smashing, and gently takes his hand. Clint was shocked at how surprisingly cold Hulk's skin was, for how angry he always seemed to be, and for how packed with muscle his hand was. Slowly though, and whispering "Thank God," he noticed heat coming back into that green skin, and that green skin dissolving into a peachier color before Hulk—or was it Bruce now? Wasn't it always him?—yanked his arm back. Clint looked away from Bruce, who looked like he was having a small seizure as he finally changed back into himself, _sans_ shirt.

Bruce stood up almost immediately and, with a sheepish smile, though still a quite a bit spacey, said, "Guess it worked...Hey, thanks...I feel much, uh, better than I usually do." He patted Clint's arm, and half-staggered past, talking into the comm to let the rest of the team know the lullaby seems to work.

"Wait," Clint said, looking from Bruce to where he changed and back again. " _That_ was much better?!"

"I was able to talk right after, wasn't I?"

 

***

 

Thor Odinson was probably the only Avenger who didn't fear the Hulk, at least not _really_ , or in the _same way_. He _was_ what the old Norse folk thought of as a god, after all. And even better than that, he had Mjolnir. Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't acknowledge that the Hulk was, as they'd say back in Asgard, _a most worthy foe_. But then again, Thor wasn't stupid. He knew better: that as powerful as the Hulk was, he was nothing compared to the power of _Bruce's_ mind. Although he didn't _talk_ to Bruce all that much, and despite certainly being taught as a young Asgardian to marvel at the brute strength he saw in Hulk, Thor found himself much more impressed by the intellect Bruce displayed. If there was anyone to truly fear, it was Bruce. But besides, neither Hulk nor Bruce were foes, or could ever be—Project Mother Goose (whoever this "Mother" was) only proved that. Compassion was all Thor could see there, in Bruce's heart. That and loneliness.

In short, Thor wasn't in Asgard anymore, and he was doing his best to remember that.

Of course, approaching the Hulk in the middle of the Alaskan tundra after a mission, Thor might as well have been fighting alongside his fellow Asgardians in Jotunheim. Hulk seemed to be tearing his way through a thick line of trees, getting dangerously close to a small town that lay just beyond it. Thor stood watching him for a minute, almost fascinated by just how different the Hulk seemed, truly, when you actually were alone with him and got a chance to really _watch_ him, than Bruce. Seeing the Hulk almost singlehandedly uproot the trees and toss them tens of feet behind him, Thor was instinctively impressed, and he felt Mjolnir almost chirp to be used on that _most worthy foe_. But then, blinking and recalling Bruce's bashful face when he was telling about the Project, Thor remembered the lullaby. "My apologies, Banner," he whispered. "I'll make this quick for you, bring you back."

He let Mjolnir fall to the ground with a soft _thump_ in the snow.

Starting to walk swiftly toward the Hulk, he said, with all the confidence he could muster, projecting at an unnatural volume, "Hey there, buddy. It's about time for a nap, don't you think?"

Hulk turned around almost fast enough to give himself whiplash. Clearly, this time, the volume was a bit too loud, as Thor could tell from his body language that he was still angry, even if the lullaby was initiated. So, without Mjolnir to egg him on into a fight, Thor took a deep breath, moving at the same rate, and began to sing. It was a song that his mother sang to him on nights when he himself had difficulty getting to sleep—an Asgardian lullaby of his own. Almost instantly, as he got nearer, Thor could see a calmness wash over the Hulk that he doubted even Bruce ever felt. Continuing to sing, Thor could see on either side of him that snow seemed to be lifted up by the lullaby, almost dancing as it hung in the air before falling once he passed.

It was in an old language, not even one he or his mother could speak. And yet, as the ethereal notes spilled forth from his mouth, Thor thought he could see almost a kind of understanding in Hulk's eyes—as if the essence of the song was loud and clear. And, of course, Thor thought it was: _Everything will be all right. There's no need to be upset. Take my hand. Go to sleep._ Holding his hand out, he finished the ballad with a smile. "Are you ready, friend?" Thor asked quietly.

The Hulk was. He touched Thor's hand gently and, within seconds, it was Bruce.

"Holy fuck, it's cold," Bruce said with a start, crossing his arms over his bare chest, his teeth chattering in a faint smile—the Asgardian lullaby was probably still going deep within him.

Thor bellowed with laughter, and held out his arm to summon Mjolnir. As it flew across the clearing and snapped into his hand, he wrapped his free arm around Bruce's shoulder. "You should try Jotunheim," he giggled, and the two shot off to rejoin the team.

 

***

 

Trying to find the Hulk somewhere in London made Steve think of the War—or, rather, those two weeks, those fourteen London nights, before he lost Bucky. Before he lost the 40s. Steve remembered the pubs he'd go to with Bucky and Peggy; the long nights of getting into drinking contests with other soldiers, which he always won; the music and the dancing, God, how he and Bucky danced together. The memories all came flooding back to him as he ran through the labyrinthine streets of the city, just like he did with his friends in 1945, the moon rising overhead.

But, as he used his locator to look for Bruce Banner, the sun was out, not the moon, and it was the 21st century, not 1945, and his friends were different now, and Steve had to remember that.

"Steve? You there? _Steve?_ Have you found Hulk yet?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, Natasha, I'm fine. Still haven't found Hulk though. The locator says he's close, but-"

The sound of metal scraping against concrete stopped Steve mid-sentence.

"Scratch that," said Steve. "I think I found him. Is Coulson secure?"

"Yeah, he's safe. I still can't believe Fury had to send us out to babysit him when things got a little rough."

"Since when did we all become SHIELD agents, again?" Steve quipped with a smile. "If we're gonna tear up half of London and make Bruce go through all this, you'd think we'd get _some_ benefits."

"Tell me about it. All right, go get Bruce for exfil. Let us know when you're ready."

"Understood. Thanks Nat."

"Does _no one_ listen to me about the codenames?" Tony butted in.

"I'm going to go ahead and say, 'no,'" answered Clint.

Laughing quietly, Steve rounded the corner up ahead to see Hulk looking in a cafe's windows, as if he was looking for something else to smash. It reminded Steve of the kids he'd see pretending to be him when he was touring the US to sell war bonds. They'd run around and make explosion noises and talk about all the Nazi stuff they were blowing up. At the time, Steve envied those kids, wishing that he could be out there, fighting those international bullies himself, blowing their shit up, _doing his job_ as Captain America. But after fighting for however-many-years-straight he'd been doing this, Steve knew the fatigue that came with destruction. And now, looking at Bruce's "Other Guy" actively looking for good stuff to destroy, Steve felt a sudden, deep, aching connection to Bruce. After missions before, he'd see him sitting in the corner, listening to whatever music he was listening to, and not really get it. Steve knew it had to be rough on him, but there was something about this moment, seeing the Hulk look so...desperate for something to smash, that made it click for Steve. _Of course,_ he thought to himself. Bruce didn't just become a fighter, he became _destruction incarnate_. When he was trying to replicate whatever it is that made Steve so strong, and it turned him into... _this_ , something so much stronger, wilder, more destructive—how much did that drain someone who just wanted to spend his time reading and looking through a microscope? How much did it drain _Steve_ , who just wanted to spend _his_ time painting and looking at art? And for what? To fight bullies.

But the glass windows and brick walls of a cafe were hardly bullies, and suddenly Steve felt tired—and he certainly knew Bruce did too. "Hey there, buddy," Steve blurted out, almost in an exhausted groan.

Hulk turned around as though he had finally discovered something else to smash.

Steve smiled weakly, and said, almost looking for a sympathetic connection, "It's about time for a nap, don't you think?" He slung his shield on his back and took off a glove and his mask. "What do you say?" he asked with a sigh.

Hulk's eyes darted around for a few seconds before finally locking with Steve's. It seemed to Steve that he had gotten the message, and agreed. It _was_ time for a nap—maybe even for both of them. Stepping forward cautiously, the Hulk offered his own hand first, almost eager to complete the ritual himself. Steve smiled widely with relief and touched Hulk, who, just as quickly as with Thor, melted into Bruce.

"Nice to see you, Bruce," Steve said before Bruce could even say anything. "Let's get going, huh? I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

Bruce nodded, yawning, as Steve called for Natasha.

"Hey, Bruce? You ever been dancing before?"

 

***

 

Natasha Romanov stood well behind the Hulk, her gun drawn and paralyzed by fear. Well, fear was probably the wrong word—indecision or apprehension might be better. _Breathe_ , she told herself, watching him thrash abandoned military vehicles and throw them against each other.

"Natasha." Steve's voice came on over the comm link. He sounded worried. "Natasha, can you handle this?"

"Yes," Natasha answered, a little too quickly, a little too curtly. She took a ragged, silent breath. "Yes, I can."

"You'll be fine with Bruce. You're probably the most competent out of all of us," said Steve, probably trying to be reassuring. "But try to do it sooner rather than later. This wasn't a planned Code Green, and Fury doesn't want Hulk tearing up SHIELD's old car lot, even if they _are_ all totaled."

It wasn't reassuring. "Yes, Steve, I got it. Romanov out," Natasha said, and turned off her comms. Watching the Hulk go to town on these cars—all but useless, not enemies, not even vaguely threats to him or Bruce—the dread that Natasha felt when Bruce and Helen first proposed using the lullaby crept even more clearly to the front of her mind. The Hulk was something that almost inherently didn't make sense. He was angry, loud, destructive—all things that Natasha could easily deal with otherwise—but even more than all that, he seemed to act randomly, smashing things up without _any_ sense of reason or tactical thought, at least to her. This was true especially now, during an uncontrolled Code Green. When they called Bruce out into the field, he usually could direct Hulk in _some_ capacity, in some way that Natasha or the other Avengers might be able to understand, or at least control to _some_ degree.

Right now, though, there was not even the slightest bit of control. Right now, the Hulk was unwieldy, and that scared the shit out of Natasha. As much as her teammates would talk about how controlled and measured her movements could be, how much she could accomplish, how many enemies she could beat down, the thread that connected them all was the fact that those movements, those situations and enemies, they could all be controlled, subdued—they all followed some kind of logic, some kind of reason, made some kind of sense. But the Hulk was anything but controllable, had no logic, reason, or sense. Bruce was Natasha's friend, and Hulk was a good nuclear option to have if things got too sour in the field, but even under ideal circumstances, the unpredictability that came with that was probably the one thing that Natasha truly, genuinely and consciously, feared.

And yet here she was, sent in the middle of the night to tame the untameable.

 _Breathe_ , Natasha reminded herself, and she did. _Okay,_ she thought. _It's time to try this_. Still aiming at the Hulk, Natasha looked around the lot, trying to find a good angle that she could approach him from. Off to his left, Hulk had made a small pile of burnt out cars, maybe three-cars high. Surveying the rest of the area, Natasha decided that that was probably her best option. _Get to the cars. When he's not paying attention, do the lullaby,_ Natasha repeats to herself. After a few seconds, and when the Hulk seems preoccupied with a set of cars he hadn't smashed yet, Natasha quickly moved to the pile of cars and crouched behind it.

Natasha took a few more quick breaths, smiling from an adrenaline rush. _Great. Part one down._ She crept to the side of the pile, and carefully looked around the corner. Hulk seemed to still be distracted, his back still turned, growling to himself. _Okay, now! Go!_ Natasha stepped outside from behind the pile and, without a thought, pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

Natasha gasped and reflexively said the phrase. "H-hey there, buddy. It's about time for a nap...don't you think?" _You_ shot _at_ _him? Are you kidding?_ she thought, but calmly put a bare hand out, anyway.

Hulk turned around quickly, clearly perturbed. Natasha quickly scanned his body up and down—no bulletholes, not even a scratch. She missed. For a second, Natasha almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then she noticed how pissed-off he seemed. He started to walk toward her, and she took a step back, inhaling sharply. _No. Stick to the plan. Stay. Calm._ Natasha looked into his eyes coolly, confidently. His eyes were just as steely as hers. Cold. Almost bitter.

Finally, the Hulk was close enough to touch her. He raised his hand, and Natasha breathed in quickly again, ready to take a blow and fight. But then, she felt his cold skin touching hers, and saw that he accepted the lullaby, starting back into Bruce.

Once Bruce was fully back, Natasha wasted almost no time. "Bruce, I...I'm sorry."

But Bruce only looked at her blankly, confusedly even. "For what? You did the lullaby, I assume. I should be saying sorry to _you_ , losing control of the Other Guy like that. I just hope I didn't do too much damage."

"You really don't..." Natasha began. She looked at Bruce, and couldn't tell whether he knew what happened, or whether he was letting it go. She wanted to press harder, wanted to truly apologize, make up for her mistake. But that didn't matter, she suddenly realized. He was her teammate, her friends' friend, _her_ friend, and he was safe _now_. That's what was important. So she continued, "...have to apologize at all. Don't worry about it," and smiled.

Bruce smiled back with a conspiratorial grin.

 

***

 

"Hey there, buddy. It's about ti-"

Tony was interrupted by the Hulk smacking him a good twenty-five yards across the Mojave, and landed on his ass.

Sitting up, Tony watched Hulk continue to rampage his way across the desert, and said to himself, "A guy tries to be efficient about saving his friend, and _this_ is his reward?"

"Nice moves, Tony," said Clint over comms. Tony could hear the other Avengers' boisterous laughter through the mike.

Staggering to his feet, Tony looked around him and asked, embarrassed, "How the hell did you guys see that?"

"The new high-powered viewfinder you just had installed on the jet. We thought we'd check out after nabbing the target. You know, I know I gave you shit for putting it on there, said it was useless, blah-blah-blah. But _now_ I totally see why it was a vital addition."

Tony ran diagnostics and saw that the suit didn't take any critical damage. "Well, I'm glad you got some use out of it, Hawkeye. Hey, Clint? Everyone? Can you all see _this_?" Tony put up his middle finger, winked, and took off into the air after Hulk.

Flying at a reasonable distance from the Hulk, who was running, as best as he could guess, toward Las Vegas, Tony tried to figure out what his strategy would be for doing the lullaby. Clearly, the old fly-right-in-front-of-him plan didn't work out too well, so it was time for plan B. The problem was that Tony didn't have a plan B. The bigger problem was, most likely, Tony was impatient. As brilliant a mind as he was, there were some occasions when Tony felt unbearably compelled to get the job done as quickly as possible, and this mission was no exception. In fact, when it came to Code Greens, Tony always wanted to see Bruce back to normal as quickly as possible. He hated to see Bruce like this—destructive, out of control, angry, but most of all, thoroughly _dimwitted_. As much shit as Tony may give Bruce, he always had a quiet, but deep, admiration for how smart he was. Watching the green shape below him lumber its way across the dry, beige ground, Tony was disturbed by the fact that that was the same man who, after seeing his work in his lab at Stark Tower, Tony would go back to his own study and work furiously, in some sort of bizarrely insecure attempt to catch up to his breakneck intellect. The very thought that Bruce was most well-known in _this_ form—that seemed to be one of the biggest injustices Tony could imagine.

Of course, Tony knew that the Hulk _wasn't_ Bruce. He was, after all, _the Other Guy_. And that's why he was so relieved when he heard that there was finally a mechanism to easily bring his friend back besides just _waiting._ He knew—hell, it was just so eloquently demonstrated for him—that it was dangerous to try and go up against Hulk without thinking, but it was also dangerous for Bruce to go green. Before the lullaby, Bruce would basically be catatonic for several hours after Hulking out, and even more withdrawn than he already was for a couple _days_. But with it—well, at least he can communicate his feelings much better, even if those feelings are negative. So, as much as Tony mocked it, he appreciated the lullaby.

But damn it, if it were just easier to perform it!

"Tony, what's taking so long?" Steve asked over the comm link.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for reminding me. I'll have Banner on the jet in under five." _Alright_ , Tony thought to himself. _Let's just do it now._ "Okay, JARVIS. Engage vocal amplifier."

"Vocal amplifier activated."

Tony said the initiation phrase from the safe distance he was previously observing the Hulk at. " _HEY THERE, BUDDY! IT'S ABOUT TIME FOR A NAP, DON'T YOU THINK?!_ "

The Hulk seemed to stop dead in his tracks, looking around for the source of the voice—certainly confused, but also certainly not angry.

"All right. Disengage vocal amplifier, and activate thrusters. I got to get down to Banner, ASAP."

"Understood, sir."

Within a minute, Tony was on the ground, just feet away from the Hulk, the noise of Tony's landing clearly startling him as he took a few steps back. Tony wanted ever-so-much to just swiftly walk forward and take Hulk's hand and just end this all. But, looking at Hulk's apprehensive face, he took a few deep breaths and realized that he'd _have_ to be gentle. Slightly annoyed, Tony withdrew the metal glove over his hand and slowly approached the Hulk, doing his best to calm him down even more. "It's all right, Big Guy. I'm not here for you. I'm just here for a friend. Don't worry about it. If you want me to leave, I totally can. All you gotta do to make that happen is take my hand. Easy, right?" Tony held out his hand.

Hulk furrowed his brow and looked at Tony's hand, then at his face, as if trying to discern whether this was a trap or not. Apparently, he decided it wasn't, because he eventually took hold of Tony's hand.

"Welcome back, Banner," Tony said.

Bruce answered about a half a minute later. "Ah, thanks, uh...Tony."

"You been working out on me, Banner?" asked Tony with a smile.

"Shut up, Tony."

Tony looked at his watch before quickly replacing the metal glove. "Okay, hang on, Banner. I promised them I'd have you back in the jet in under five minutes, and we got about, fifty-three seconds left."

They made it back in fifty-two.

 

***

 

It had been about five minutes since Tony and Bruce boarded the jet, and Bruce was sitting in his usual corner on the jet. Everything felt...well, kind of like it normally does, but better. It didn't feel like he couldn't move, or think, or even feel, like it used to. Things were always foggy when the Other Guy takes over. It would always be that way, and Bruce knew that.

He looked at his teammates all hanging out, talking on their ride back to Stark Tower. He was still a bit surprised, happy, that they all went along with the whole lullaby thing. It wasn't even a revolutionary thing, just something to make him a bit more comfortable—and they all still agreed to face the Big Guy, just for that. And not just once: they agreed to keep facing him.

Bruce wondered why that was.

Thor saw that Bruce was looking at them and asked a question Bruce didn't hear a lot.

"Are you alright, friend?"

Bruce leaned his head back against the wall and smiled.

He was.


End file.
